


Blue Eyes

by lovedoesntdiscriminate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bi!Dean, Cas is a writer, Cas is sad, Drinking, F/F, M/M, Supportive Sam Winchester, i'll tag more as i go on, there will be angst, we'll find out more about cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 06:56:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6042304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovedoesntdiscriminate/pseuds/lovedoesntdiscriminate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean meets a quiet stranger while working the bar. When their first encounter ends on an out of the ordinary note, Dean hopes the stranger will come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Four Roses

**Author's Note:**

> alright so, this is a complete stream of consciousness, more of a writing exercise. i hope you enjoy it

It had started out as a way to make easy money. Work at his aunt's bar part time so cash was easier to come by.  
That was high school. That was ten years ago.

 Dean Winchester co-owned the place now. It was split into three; Dean's share, his aunt's, and his cousin Jo's.  
Dean liked tending the bar. So he did, often. He had his regulars, the newbies loved him. He loved hearing their stories and making them laugh. He loved the flirting. All of it. But every now and then there were the ones who preferred Jo, and made a point of it.  
Tonight, he and Jo were tending side by side. Together, they were unstoppable. A few simple bar tricks got cheers and clapping. The more the night went on, the bigger Dean's smile got.

 And no, none of that could have possibly been from the one or two shots he'd split with costumers. Nor Jo's. Obviously.

 Jo nudged his arm during a slower hour. He glanced at her, still pouring a customers drink.

"When'd he come in?" Jo asked, voice hushed. She gestured to a man sitting quietly on his stool, a finger making circles around the rim of his empty glass.

Dean shrugged, handing the drink to the other customer with a smile and a wink. "A while ago? He didn't say much."Jo gave him a look. "What?"

"Go work your charm. Maybe he's your type." She teased.

"Maybe." Dean glanced over at him again. His hair was a mess, in fact his clothes were too. He had on a large, tan overcoat that was slightly off one shoulder. It was lightly wrinkled. Beneath it seemed to be a full suit. He had a thin layer of dark stubble over his chin and his eyes were downcast.  
Dean strolled over to him, and threw on his winning smile.  
"Hey, buddy. Need a refill?" He offered, curious as to how the other man would react.

He looked up and offered a sliver of a smile. Damn,his eyes were blue. "I could, actually."

What a voice. It caught Dean off-guard. The other man's kind, albeit seemingly very tired, features didn't seem to fit it. "What were you drinking?"

The man hesitated. Almost as if he'd forgotten. "Four Roses."

Dean raised an eyebrow. The man wasn't talking like someone who'd been drinking that stuff. A cheap bourbon that burned the whole way down yet maintained a simple smoothness. Good taste,though. Maybe that's what had made the other man's voice so rough. "Coming right up. I'm Dean."

The other man watched him calmly. "Cas."

"Cas?" Dean asked, he hadn't heard that name much. "How do you want it? Rocks?"

The man, Cas, shrugged. "Either or, and it's a nickname."

"Well, Cas. Nice to make the acquaintance." Dean smiled and placed the glass back in front of the stranger. He sat up straighter.

"Same to you."

Jo was right, not very talkative. Dean decided to jump start the conversation. "So. You've gotta do something with your hands, look at 'em."

Cas looked down at them with an eyebrow raised. "Anything specific to draw that conclusion?"

Dean smiled at his confusion. "You tell me."

"Does typing and using a pencil at times count as 'working with my hands'?" Cas asked, looking back up at the bartender.

Now he knew what Cas did, and he could carry on the conversation. Distract him, do his job. All that good stuff. "You write?"

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes. "Do you like your job, Dean?"

Dean grinned. " _Love_ it."

Cas poked out a finger at him while still holding the glass."Count that as a blessing."

It was hard for Dean to keep from smiling. Cas sounded partially sarcastic, and partially deadly serious. It was an interesting combination.

"I'll keep that in mind.Give me a second?" Dean wasn't really asking, another customer came in and Jo was busy. Cas gave him an understanding nod. "Be right back."

   Dean wasn't right back. Not fully. He'd come and go as the night went on, carry on conversation in bits with both Cas and the others.  
Cas never seemed anything other than lucid, which impressed Dean. He'd even commented on it once or twice. Cas just seemed more open. He had a dry sense of humor and great timing. It was nice.  
Jo definitely noticed. She didn't say anything,though. Not yet.

Then, there were 20 minutes to last call. And Cas was still sitting there,though he'd switched to beer.

"20 minutes,buddy." Dean announced. He started wiping down the counter near where Cas was seated.

"Until you get off the clock?" Cas asked, sounding only vaguely suggestive.

Dean's reaction couldn't have been classified as a snort- there was no sound. A breath of air through his nose that seemed more like a wanna-be laugh. "That,yeah. And last call."Cas seemed surprised,so Dean continued, "Yes,already."

"In that case," Cas began, his slight smile much more resembling a smirk, "I offer a proposition."

"Shoot." Dean answered, cleaning a glass left behind by a patron.

"You've twenty minutes left, probably closer to 15. As do I. Have a drink with me first."

Dean made that same wanna-be laugh a second time. "I'm still on the clock."

"And that would be deleterious?"

Dean blinked, he'd never heard someone who'd been there as long as Cas had use a word like that with no difficulty. "Not that bad, no."

Cas seemed satisfied. "So?"

"One." Dean agreed. "But I'm picking the brand."

Cas put his hands up like it was he who was giving in. "Fair is fair."

 Dean smiled from one side of his mouth. He poured a vaguely honey colored liquid that Cas couldn't identify into two shot glasses.  
He slid one to Cas who stopped it and raised it to Dean's. "Any toast?" He asked.

"Not particularly." Dean was smiling fully now.

"Good enough." Cas decided, but clinked the glasses anyway.

    They two tilted their heads back and drank quickly, their glasses clinking on the counter almost simultaneously.  
One turned into two, turned into four, turned into Dean pouring a fifth.

"Slow down there, cowboy. You may be able to knock these back easy, but I've been here since about nine." Cas joked, accepting the drink anyway.

"And seem barely affected." Dean pointed out.

"I also haven't stood up yet."

Dean nodded vaguely. "Also true."

Cas watched Dean's hands as he spoke. "You commented on my hands earlier."

"I did. And you mentioned writing."

Cas shook his head. " _You_ mentioned writing, you inferred from what I said. It was an ephemeral thought, I'd assumed.But that's not why I bring it up."

"Then why do you?" Dean asked, now intrigued.

"Your hands." It was a simplistic response, as if it left nothing unspoken.

"My hands." Dean repeated.

"Are incredible, beautiful. They look calloused. Why're they calloused?"

Dean hummed a moment before responding. "I dunno. I work with 'em."

Cas laughed. "I knew that much."

"Hm." An incredibly detailed response on Dean's end. "Cas."

"Yes?"

"What's that stand for? You said it was a nickname."

"Castiel." He went to take a sip from his glass,but found it empty. Dean raised his eyebrows.  
"From the angel, Cassiel. Parents seemed to want to put a spin on it, I guess." Cas let his head loll to the side.

"Oh,of course." Dean went to respond further, but he was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

"Last call was five minutes ago." It was Jo. She didn't sound unkind, but she did sound firm.

Cas made a move to stand, but Dean made a gesture meaning for him to stay. "I was,uh, just gonna give the guy a ride home. He can't drive." Cas looked confused, but nodded in agreement.

Jo simply rolled her eyes. "And leaving me to lock up?"

"Yes?" Dean made a slightly pleading facial expression. Jo patted his shoulder.

"I was right," She said, "and you owe me one."

"For helping a guy out?" Dean feigned offence.

"Absolutely." And that was her exit.

"Taking me home, are you?" Cas's slight smirk had returned.

"I didn't hear you come up with a better excuse."  
  
"Appreciated." Cas said. "If you were being serious, that is."

"Depends, did you drive here?"

"I did not."

"Then, I was serious."

Cas thought about this a second before continuing. "I have a feeling you would've yes anyway."

"Do you?" Dean stood and made his way around to Cas's side of the bar.

"Call it, writer's intuition." Castiel said, using the edge of the bar's counter to steady himself.

Dean smiled at the not-so-stranger. "Now why would I do that?"

"Why not?"

    Dean took another look at Cas, now that they were both closer and upright. His tie was barely loosened, but his coat was still disheveled. He had grey hairs, few and far in between but still present. As the cool night air hit him the reality of that observation did too. An oddly specific one. Dean was decidedly less sober than originally intended, but definitely not drunk.

"Dean?" Cas asked, low voice broke through his thoughts.

"Yeap?"

"Which car's yours?"

Dean made a gesture to a black car, one Cas could barely see in the night.

"It shines." Was Castiel's only verbalization.

Dean nodded proudly. "Fixed her up myself."

Cas nodded in realization. "That's what you do with your hands."

"Not all I do, but yeah." For once, Dean's comment wasn't intended to be as sexual as it sounded.

Castiel was unaware of that,though, and he let out a slightly smug huff and got into the car. "An older model." He commented.

"Mhm. '67 Chevy. My baby. Wait til you hear her start up."

Castiel was more interested in watching Dean's face, he was excited and it was a beautiful sight to see. Even in such poor lighting. The car started up and purred and Dean grinned.

"Smooth." It was all Cas could think to comment. He was referring to the sound, but wasn't sure how it came across.

"Ain't she? So. Where we headed?"

Cas gave his address, and kept his eyes locked on Dean's features, soaking them in.

"What're you looking at?" Dean finally asked.

"You."

Dean chuckled. "Clearly. A little distracting though,man."

Castiel hummed in response. Dean's focus wasn't as impaired as Cas's was. He knew he'd been drinking and was determined to drive as safely as he could nonetheless. There was a passenger.

 

   Once at Castiel's house, the two were quiet for the first time since the ride began.

"Here we are." Cas announced, as if Dean was unaware.

"Here we are." Dean repeated. They both stepped out of the car.

Cas paused again. "It's hard to read the situation right now."

"How so?"

"Because I really want to kiss you, and I'm not positive it's reciprocated."

Dean was slightly taken aback. But, he didn't to protest. Despite himself, he spoke. "It is."

Cas once again seemed satisfied. He close the distance as best and cupped Dean's face gently before kissing him.  
Dean kissed him back. Dean decided Cas's lips were not as chapped as they looked. They were soft, Dean liked them. Cas tasted like stale beer and multiple kinds of alcohol but he didn't mind because it was familiar. He leaned further into the kiss,putting a hand on Castiel's side.The outside of cars were decidedly not the best place to kiss.  
The kiss quietly grew heated, both men slowly getting more desperate. Dean could make a fair guesstimate of where this all was headed, until light rain began to fall. He felt Cas smile against him, and pull away just enough to rest their foreheads together. Dean noticed the other man's hand had moved from his face to his neck where there it stayed. Dean was about to question why they'd stopped when he felt it. The droplets were growing steadily in size, coming down harder by the minute.

"Of course." Cas said with a slight laugh, a slight growl of want still in his voice. Dean was still registering what had just happened. "Do you want to come in?" Cas's words weren't slurred, per say. Just hastily rushed together.

"I probably shouldn't." Dean said, knowing his brother may very well be worried that he wasn't home.

"Not to fuck if that's the issue." Castiel offered. It sounded weird when Cas swore, like the words didn't belong. "It's late and raining and you're drunk."

Dean weighed his options. He'd admit, he was lucky to get there in one piece. He shuddered at the thought. "You don't have to do that."

Cas rolled his eyes and nudged him lightly. "I got a ride home and a fantastic kiss. A safe place to sleep's a fair trade."

Dean grinned,he was able to make the majority of that out. "I'll have to uh, call my brother." Cas just shrugged.

"I'm gonna go inside where the dry is."

Dean nodded and locked his car before following Cas's lead to the front door.

Dean started typing out a text, he wasn't in the mood for a call, while Castiel fished for his keys.

Trying to get the key in the lock was another story all together. "Shhhhhhhoot." He said, seeming to decide not to cuss for whatever reason.  
The lock clicked right after Dean sent his text.

Dean looked up from his phone, Cas was holding the door open for him. He had a decent sized house, by the looks of the living room. There were books scattered, but other than that everything seemed to have a place.  
Cas tossed his keys into a bowl and let out a little breath. "Couch or bed?"

It sounded like one word to Dean, and it took a minute to decipher it. "I'm good on the couch."

"I'll trade you if you kiss me again."

Dean chuckled. "Why offer if you wanted me to take the bed?" His phone buzzed,but he didn't check it.

"I,frankly, don't care which you take."

Dean took the hint. He pressed his lips to Castiel's lightly, not nearly as deeply as before. The feeling of Cas's lips on his, so full of want, was nearly enough to elicit a sound from Dean.

It was like Cas could sense it. He pulled away slowly. "Not a good idea." He said, sounding defeated.

Dean was just confused. "Why?"

"I'm gonna end up wanting more than a kiss."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Cas looked at Dean like he had six heads. Maybe seven. "Can't cross that line like this."

It finally registered. Cas stopped because they were drunk, Cas likely plenty more than himself. He stopped because he felt he couldn't be sure Dean wanted it. Dean smiled. "You're not half bad, Cas."

Cas shrugged, "Bedroom's the second room down the hall."

Dean nodded a bit. "You can come in you know, it is your house."

"I know." He kicked off his shoes and started tugging lightly at the tie he wore. "Want anything? Before you crash."

Dean was trying to avoid looking at the guy's mouth. It was hard to do. "I'm good." Cas nodded in his general direction, and started struggling with his coat. "Gotta ask something though?"

"Shoot."

"How the _hell_ are you not shitfaced at this point?"

Cas laughed. "Pacing myself?"

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, that only gets you so far. You were there for hours."

"I'm not sober you know."

"I got that, but seriously." Dean grinned. "Kind of impressing."

"Thanks." Cas actually went and hung the jacket up. Dean would've definitely just tossed it to the side. "I do have to really try to get,shitfaced though."

"And you weren't tonight?"

"I was on my way, but a cute bartender decided to strike up conversation with me."

"Ah, understood." Dean rubbed the back of his neck with a little smile. The tiredness that followed drinking seemed to hit him all at once. "You sure you're not coming in?"

Cas waved a dismissive hand. "Too far away." He headed towards the couch.

"Not half bad." Dean mumbled to himself as he watched him. "You sure know how to leave people with questions."

Cas's turn to have that same wanna-be laugh as he attempted to get situated on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. "Writer." He reminded Dean. "Cliffhangers add to the plot."

"Of course."


	2. Purple Sheets

 Dean woke up in a start. Initially, it was the feeling of a minimal hangover. Then, it was the sun shedding light of the unfamiliar bedroom.  
It took probably a full minute for everything to come flooding back, for the panic to subside.  
He was at Castiel's, the guy from the bar. The really _sweet_ guy from the bar. He was in his bed,in his purple sheets,while Cas was on the couch.

Not how his nights usually went.

Dean sat up and waited for his head to adjust to the movement. Other than a headache, the typical hangover symptoms didn't apply.  
He wondered if Cas was up yet. He stood, and looked around. The curtains were wide open, splaying light all over the king bed. The wall closest to the door had a painting on it, but other than that they were bare.

Dean rubbed at his eyes and made his way into the living room.

Castiel was there, on the couch, sleeping soundly with his arms over his chest.He was even snoring lightly.

Dean chuckled.He had a decision though.

What was the protocol for "I crashed at your house after an almost hookup"?  
Was that when he leaves quickly, getting in his car and zooming down the road before other woke? Or when he stays for a hopefully not too awkward breakfast?  
Dean opted for the latter because Cas had left too many questions unanswered.

_Like, why had Cas even been there last night?_

_Why did he avoid the topic of his writing so much?_

_Why did he kiss him so passionately and be able to turn it off so quickly?_

_Why was Dean so interested in him?_

Dean was just wondering about where he should go to wait, when Cas stirred.

  
He let out a quiet groan, and then stretched. His eyes opened, and landed on Dean. "Up early?" He asked, his voice managing to get rougher and heavier with sleep.

"Is 11 early?"

Cas smiled sleepily and stretched again. He sat up, and arched his back slightly to release the tension that had built up from sleeping on a couch. "You were watching me." He commented, seemingly un-bothered. His hair was messier than the night before, which Dean had previously deemed impossible.

"Not really, kinda, I mean-" Dean stammered. Cas stood up and wandered,seemingly aimlessly, but wound up in front of his coffee pot. It was like the path was permanently etched into his mind. "For like a minute. Sorry?"

Cas waved his hand dismissively, a mirrored action from the night before. "I was watching you for most of the night. Do you drink coffee?"

"Black." Dean said, watching as Cas moved methodically to set everything up.

"You're crazy." Cas responded, a playful comment with oddly serious undertones.

"Why's that?"

"You gotta have it with a flat spoon of sugar. Too bitter." Cas blinked his eyes a few times, still trying to wake up.

Dean shook his head incredulously. "It's the perfect morning pick me up as is, dude."

Cas chuckled, taking out a mug and pouring the dark liquid in and passing it to Dean. He repeated the action once more, but adding in flat tablespoon of sugar and stirring it in. Once Dean was sure the clinking of metal to ceramic was going to make his head explode, Cas stopped and took a sip.  
"How are you not dying?"

"Already with questions? Um. Headaches happen a lot. I just deal." The way he said 'deal' made it seem like he'd never used the phrase before. Like it was foreign.

Dean took a long sip from the mug and closed his eyes, loving the hot feeling of it sliding down his throat."You're an interesting dude."

"Thank you?" Castiel responded only when he'd finished his own sip.

"You're acting like we do this every morning. We met last night."

"How am I supposed to react?" It was a genuine question.

"I don't know,man. I assumed a helluva lot less casual."

"Sorry to disappoint." Cas took another drink. "Is this where you ask the questions you were talking about last night?"

Why not? Might as well, before heading home. "Why'd you come to the bar?"

"Miniature pity party." His answer was short, but it didn't have any bite to it.

"Oh? 'Zat why you didn't answer any questions about writing?"

Cas nodded behind his mug.

"What happened?"

Cas pinched one eye closed,furrowed his brows, and looked at the ceiling in thought. His eye slowly opened when his mouth did, to speak. It definitely wasn't cute. "Um. Writing's hard? Too much effort, minimal reward?"

Dean nodded. "Fair enough."

Cas raised an eyebrow in Dean's direction. "I'd think so. That all of your questions?"

Dean's fingers drummed against his own arm, which were both crossed over his chest loosely. "How'd you go from kissing me the way you did, to having me take the bed?"

Cas almost choked on his coffee. He hoped Dean didn't notice. He tried not to sputter through his response. "U-uh. Conscious kicked in? I don't.. I don't know I guess I just. Did?"

And for the first time since they met, it was Cas at a loss for words.

"'Cause that's not too rom-com-y."

"It happened though, script free."

"Of course it did." Dean sipped at his coffee. "One more."

"Shoot." Cas said, seemingly suddenly aware that he was still in a suit, as he looked himself over and let out a sigh.

Dean suppressed a smile. "What now?"

Once Castiel was done being embarrassed, he let out a hum. "Now? That's a good question. I've been calling the shots, why don't you take this one?"

Dean rolled his eyes playfully. "Passing the hard questions onto me."

"Mhm."

"I think. I go home. And you come back to the bar if you wanna try this all again."

Cas took that for consideration. "Try what all?"

Dean wasn't sure. "Use your imagination."

"In _that_ case. It sounds like a plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll probably update a lot this week, i'm on vacation. what are you guys thinking so far?


	3. Mystery Man

Dean couldn't help but get lost in thought on his drive home. He couldn't help but wonder, what was that guy like when he was actually drunk? What happened when his inhibitions were completely down, when his eyes lost that focus, when he was so fully relaxed he was unapologetically himself, unapologetically loud.. 

Dean shook the thought from his mind. Last night,he decided, was definitely one of the weirder work nights.

He stopped home first, wanted to get out of those clothes. The sound of his car parking was apparently instantly recognizable as his brother opened their door fairly quickly.  
Dean raked his fingers through his hair and sighed before getting out. "Heya, Sammy."

Sam gave Dean a little nod. "It's like, one. You know that right?"

Dean nodded, passing through their home's threshold. "Sure do."

"Were you that far away? Like cities over?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really."

Sam clearly couldn't hide his surprise. "You okay?"

Dean looked over at his younger brother with a reassuring smile. "I'm fine."

Sam just raised an eyebrow. "Who was she?"  
Dean shook his head. " _He_ was a writer type. Met him at work." Sam nodded, expecting Dean to continue. He did. "I crashed at his place, ironic since I drove him home."

Sam was definitely missing something. He figured,however, that they were disgusting details and didn't mind. "You still going in today?"

"Mhm. Shower first." Dean patted the much taller brother's shoulder before heading to his room.  
From there, as he took of his shirt, he called to the living room. "Wait a minute, Sammy. Why're you home?"

Sam called back. "Time off."

"Time off?"

"Yeah. After finals we get most of December and January off."

"Lucky s.o.b's."

The water ran, and that was the end of the conversation. Dean stepped in,letting the water rush all down his face for a moment before turning his back to the stream.

 

Dean and Jo decided to keep the doors closed today. It was a Wednesday afternoon, they figured not many people would be coming in, and those who were planning to could easily find somewhere else. Maybe they'd change their minds when night fell.

But currently, they were sitting at their own bar, eating lunch. There was music playing faintly, classic rock. Jo's playlist, which Dean highly approved of.

In between bites, Jo cut off Dean's story."Never mind that.I want the juicy stuff.What happened last night?"

Dean made a vague hand gesture and mumbled before taking another bite.

"That's not an answer, Dean."

Dean looked up at his cousin and shrugged. "Not much happened actually." 

"Bullshit." Jo called, taking a sip of her water. "If it was that dirty, you're right. I don't wanna know."

"No, seriously. We made out and then he backed off, something about a conscious." Dean's tone was joking, even though he was relaying the truth.

"That's a first. Did you leave?" 

Dean let out that same wanna-be laugh. "Nope."

"No?" Jo was surprised for the second time that day, tossing her hair over her shoulder in order to keep it out of her face -out of her food. 

"Nope. He slept on the couch, and gave me the bed."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "I feel like I'm missing something."

"You and me both, Jo. But, that's all. Wanted me to stay 'cause 'it's late and raining and you're drunk.'" Dean gave his best Cas impression. 

Jo made a face that indicated she was amused. "Not a bad guy. Get his number?"

Dean shook his head. "Left it up to him, told him to come back here if he wanted."

"Of course you did. Did you get his name at least?"

"That I did. Castiel."

Jo grinned. "Bless you." That was their shared inside joke from childhood. Anytime there was a name they thought was hard to pronounce, they pretended it sounded like a sneeze.

Dean pushed her playfully. "It's not that bad. Named after an angel or something, I don't remember the explanation."

Jo rolled her eyes. "So the guy you almost hooked up with was named after an angel? So much for 'no chick flick moments', huh,Dean?"

"Shut up." 

"I hope angel boy comes back. I wanna meet him." 

"Something tells me he will."

Dean remembered Cas's little comment about cliffhangers. He was convinced he wouldn't leave it there. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so short. the next chapter will be from cas's point of view. hmm


	4. Flashbacks Can Mess With Your Head

_It had been a long time since Castiel had felt like himself. He'd gotten lost in his head, and seemed to lose part of himself by doing so._

_He used to be really straight edge, and if you asked him, boring. He was so absorbed in his work that nothing else seemed important most of the time. He even managed to get on the New York Time's best seller's list. His book stayed on that list, unwavering, for a full 3 weeks._

_And then, summer came. Summer came, and everything changed. He was thrown out of his world and out of his comfort zone. He changed that day, and he still wasn't sure if it was for the best._

The days before Cas met Dean were far less eventful.

Three before, Cas was in his house most of the day, staring at a blank computer screen with a killer case of writer's block. The night was spent with him staring at a piece of paper, pencil gripped firmly in his hands, in the same position. He'd been doing well at first,  got out 10 paragraphs of something brand new in 20 minutes. He'd always had more luck with the old school method. Then he reread it. To him, it seemed like something a freshman would lazily turn in for a Creative Writing class in the hopes of a simple passing grade.

So it was shit. 

He stayed there until about two in the morning, writing and erasing and writing and erasing,when he finally gave up and went to bed.

Two days before was more or less the same, but he took a break in between for a movie marathon. He fell asleep on the couch until midnight, where he got up and dragged himself back to bed. 

The day before, his pattern was interrupted by his phone buzzing. 

It was a text.

**_cas?_ **

The name above the message was one he was actually glad to see. He picked up his phone and typed a message back.

**_Hey, Charlie._ **

Charlie had been Castiel's closest friend since grade school. They were practically inseparable until their twenties, and if you happened to be _lucky enough_ to be around them  in their college years, you'd know that. Charlie was the only one Cas really let his guard down around back then, and their laughter often roared through any room they were in. 

**_busy?_ **

Cas looked from his paper, littered with crossed out mistakes and scattered notes to himself but lacking much progress, back to his phone screen.

_**No, not really.** _

_**so how bout i come over today?** _

_**I'm probably gonna be boring today, I haven't gotten any work done in ages.** _

_**boring "today"?** _

_**Shut up. Plus, won't Gilda wonder where you are?** _

_**im coming over. i could do this thing where i tell her, you know, communicate** _

_**Bring takeout?** _

_**duh.** _

 

 

Charlie arrived sometime after 6, carrying two large brown bags. Cas grinned, taking them from her and setting them down on the counter. 

"King's?" He asked.

The redhead gave him a look. "Where else? They have the best Chinese food in the country, it's even on their menus." 

Castiel chuckled. She wasn't wrong, the words were typed in italics on the front of their menus. In his defense, he hadn't even looked at the menu in years. They got the same thing more or less every single time. 

Charlie was already pulling containers out of the bag, moving around and grabbing plates from the cupboards like they were her own.

"When's the last time you got out of the house?"

"Depends."

"No it doesn't, Cas. I mean out of the house. Not like, grocery shopping or something."

"Oh." Cas debating lying, and decided against it. Charlie would know. "It's been a couple days."

"I'm glad I came to rescue you, then."

"I don't need rescuing!" Cas sounded petulant. He sighed. "Writing takes up time."

Charlie clicked her tongue. "There are other things in the world. I thought you'd gotten out of that mindset.

Castiel shrugged, helping her plate. "Really bad case of writer's block. It's driving me up a wall, Charlie."

She stopped what she was doing and put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "You need to get out of your head, that never ends well."

She was right. Castiel didn't acknowledge her, though. Instead, he cleared his throat and clasped his hands together once. "What are we watching?" 

Charlie knew not to press it. "I still haven't made you watch all the good movies."

" _All_ the good movies? Charlie, there are so many movies."

"And, you're missing out on all of them. You're lucky to have me."

She grabbed her plate and winked, carrying it into the living room. 

"Charlie!" Cas called, uselessly. He never liked eating greasy foods in the living room and she knew that. But, that's where his tv was. She wasn't gonna move. 

He sighed and grabbed his own plate, and about 60 napkins, and followed her. 

"In he comes!" Charlie was already cross legged on his couch. Cas used his free hand to throw some of the napkins at her. 

"Use them maybe?"

"Maybe. So what are you in the mood for?"

Cas sighed, settling down.  _A finished book?  To actually get out of his own head?_  "Comedy."

"That narrows it down." 

"You're the one with the extensive list, you can't blame me." 

Charlie huffed. "I'm going with  _The Producers_ , with Gene Wilder.  You're gonna love it."

"You haven't been wrong yet."

                      

The movie was hysterical. Cas as almost in tears laughing, and he wasn't even twenty minutes in. Bloom was in hysterics about a blanket, there was yelling and jumping. Cas couldn't relay many of the lines if you asked, they were droned out by Charlie's laughter and his own.

His mind really was off everything. They'd both cleaned their plates and laughed until their ribs hurt. That was, until his mind started wandering against his will.

_Cas was standing in his room, tears stinging his cheeks. His heart ached and he felt like his knees would give out at any second. In a fit, he grabbed the closest thing to him and hurled it. The mug smacked the wall and shattered. It wasn't enough. The broken mug didn't fix it. He couldn't even remember why the mug had been there. Obviously smashing it didn't fix it. It just made another mess. He'd have to clean it up._

_Why couldn't breaking things fix the world's problems, or at least his own? Why couldn't shattered ceramics bring her back?_

_Cas slid onto the floor, his back to his bed, with heavy sobs. His head was in his hands and his whole body shook with every breath he took. He genuinely wondered if heartbreak could kill him. He felt like, at any moment, he'd break. He'd break like the mug did, shatter in a hundred pieces. That would probably hurt less._

_No, it would definitely hurt less._

_He couldn't bring her back, but he could lose himself._

_Why couldn't he lose himself?_

"Cas?" Charlie's voice broke through his thoughts. "Castiel?"

Cas blinked back into present time. "Yes?"

She sighed lightly and put her arm around him. "You good?"

"I'm good." Cas's voice was insistent. "I am."

"Then keep watching. LSD's gonna audition." Charlie patted her friend's back and pulled her hand back.

"What?" 

"Nothing, just watch that guy."

And Cas did. He watched the rest of the movie with his friend by his side. He chuckled a few times, and took comfort in Charlie's presence. 

She left after, they hugged and she insisted he get some sleep. He promised he would, and Charlie added that she was only a phone call away. Cas knew this, and was grateful for it, but just rolled his eyes. That earned him a "gentle" punch in the arm.

And Cas did go to sleep. It took a couple hours of staring blankly at the ceiling, but sleep came.  He counted it as a blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so cas has some stuff to work through, huh? wonder who the girl is.


	5. Quick Scrawls- Or Chapter 4.5

It had been a while since Dean saw Cas. He had started to doubt he'd make a reappearance. He shrugged it off, Dean had left it up to him and it appeared like Cas made a decision.

It was a slow night. Tuesdays always were. Two of Dean's regulars were present, but the rest were either new or Jo's. The only problem with that was the fact that Jo wasn't there. 

No one made a comment on it though. Other than Dean, teasing her regulars that they were stuck with him that night. Around nine, the door opened and the bell atop it rang, catching Dean's attention. He looked up and nearly had to do a double take.

Same trenchcoat, same suit even, just without all the wrinkles. It was Cas, Dean was sure of it.

The messy hair and blue eyes gave it away if nothing else.

"Well,well, well. Look who came around." Dean greeted.Cas offered the small smile Dean had seen a few times before. "Been good?"

Cas nodded nonchalantly. "Better." He began. "Sorry it took so long."

"No need." Dean didn't know how this conversation was gonna go. Cas sat down in front of where Dean stood, beside a redhead who was giving Dean the eye. "I was going to wait until last call, but I figured you may not be there then."

"Why would that be?" Dean asked,reaching to grab a glass.

"I don't know your hours." Cas replied simply. "And, I'm all set, thank you. Driving tonight."

Dean put the glass back down and smiled. "Then what can I do ya for?"

"Well, I didn't have your number."

Dean nodded. "That's true."

"Cliff hangers are only fun for so long." He was smiling as well now, if only from one side.

"Also true. Have you changed your clothes at all since then?"

Cas looked down at himself and shrugged, looking back up. "I have, yes."

Lieutenant Literal apparently. Dean let out a breath and scratched the back of his neck. "So, uh."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Uh?"

"How've you been?" Dean ended it with a raise in pitch, making it sound even more like a question than it already would have.

"Still the same answer, better." Cas seemed confused by the repeat in questioning.

"Right,yeah, I knew that."

"Was I interrupting something?" Cas asked glancing between the woman he was sat beside and Dean.

"What? No! No,no. You just caught me off guard,man."

"Are you positive? I could easily just-"

Dean wasn't going to let that happen. "Positive."

Cas looked at him a moment, staring almost, like he was reading him. "Okay.."

"Okay. So what's up?"

A voice Cas didn't recognized called out, "One more!" in an almost triumphant slur from a table on the other side of the room.

"Fuck,okay, gimme a second."

Cas nodded, and Dean quickly filled a glass with something on tap- a dark,nearly black liquid-, and headed towards the voice. 

Cas decided to make this quick. Dean was busy. When Dean came back, he was mumbling something Cas couldn't make out. 

"Dean?" Cas interrupted. "Do you have a pen?"

Dean patted the pockets of his jeans, finding nothing. "Yes." He said,unsure. He opened a drawer Cas couldn't see from his position, and pulled out a blue ball point pen. 

Cas thanked him with a smile, accepting it and sliding a napkin towards himself.  
And he wrote. He wrote his number, and a note beside it. "Castiel Novak. ~~Dean,~~  Do with this what you will, but I ~~really~~  hope to hear from you."   
He folded the napkin and passed it towards Dean, who'd been watching him.

"Thanks?"

Cas winked and stood. "I should get going, let you work." He said, gesturing towards the customers.

"You don't have to, you could-"

Cas cut him off. "The ball is in your pit, as they say."

"No one says that. It's 'in your court'."

"What did I say?" Castiel's head tilted and he squinted his eyes before shaking his head. "Same thing. I could've just made a really smooth exit."

"No offense, but you don't seem very smooth." The redhead piped in. Cas ignored her.

"You _could have_ , yeah." Dean grinned.

"Like I said, Dean. Passing the ball to you."

And, with a spin on his heel, Castiel was heading out the door. 

Dean opened up the napkin and nodded at it. "Game on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will probably be skipped further ahead, but like i said before, this is all just a stream of consciousness. unedited mess. how are you guys liking it?


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